The Silence of Sorrow
by fffan231
Summary: A new and detailed take on the aftermath of Alexandria's destruction on disc 3. Rated for violence and mild swearing. Zidane Dagger.


His eyes slowly fluttered open and closed on their own. Each time they opened, a hazy scene came into view.

The sky was black as night. In place of an arrangement of sparkling stars was a blanket of thick smoke, twirling around lazily while ascending from burning remains on the surfaces around him. Orange-ish lights flickered some ways away, making the smoke appear as white before it rose out of the lights' range where it returned to its true, charcoal black. The heat he felt and the crackling sound of burning wood classified the lights as fire, not far from the place he realized he was lying. The cold, uneven surface underneath him illustrated itself as a stone street.

His first instinct was to lift his head and scan his surroundings to see where he was. But his body didn't obey the command, as if the connection it had with his brain had been disabled. Instead, he became suddenly aware of many things at once.

His body was searing with every pain imaginable. Every muscle burned, every limb shook, the stinging pulse of gashes scattered in various places all over his body, some much more excruciating than the rest. His breath was short, his teeth were clenched, and his eyes were tightly shut. His skin was wet with a stream of warm blood that flowed from the numerous gashes. Internally he was one big, aching bruise.

Beyond his suffering, he was aware of a sound outside his short, hasty breathing. Two feminine voices carried over to him from an unknown distance, quickly becoming louder as they came closer. In a very short time, they were right by his side, close enough for him to make out the words and the voices' owners.

"Zidane!" Eiko's childish, usually energetic voice spoke his name, saturated in horror. He couldn't answer, finding will to do little more than suffer in many pains. A few moments passed before the second voice finally spoke.

"Zidane…"

The voice cracked, followed shortly by a choked sob. Behind his anguish, something sparked at the sound of Dagger's voice. An instinct: one that had planted itself within him in recent weeks past. It was one to protect her and answer her pain. It awakened suddenly as she spoke in such anguish. He tried to answer her, tried to acknowledge that he'd heard her, but to no avail.

Another sobbed followed the first, and then a new kind of wetness joined the blood on one of his arms. It stung his cuts as it rolled it's way down to the street.

"Dagger," Eiko's voice sounded again, frantic. There was a short pause, and then a light brightened the blackness behind his eyelids. A cool, soothing sensation began at his wrist, slowing traveling up the length of his arm. As it made its way, the pains in his arm faded.

The vast amount of injuries began taking their toll, sapping his strength and making it impossible to stay awake. Once the healing sensation made its way to his shoulder, all went black and silent.

---

The next time he opened his eyes was an unknown amount of time later. The first thing he noticed was the gentle warmth of the sun beating down on his face, encouraging the heaviness of his eyelids and the groggy fog inside his head. His eyes had barely opened a fraction before they closed again. Pressure squeezed his head with every heartbeat, provoking a small groan of discomfort, in which his body shifted ever so slightly. The movement made him aware of the surface below him, which wasn't hard and cold as expected. It was soft and smooth, caressing the skin of his torso, which he now realized was bare.

These new findings began to wake him considerably quickly. The pounding and fog dissolved suddenly as if he'd simply woken up from a dream. Eyes still closed, he lay still, using his new awareness to take inventory of his surroundings.

Wondering what else could be different after finding himself shirtless, he subconsciously took inventory of his body. Most of the pain that had covered the entirety of his body was gone, save for a few areas. His upper right arm throbbed and, being a seasoned fighter familiar with injuries, recognized it as a long, deep gash dressed with a snug bandage. Similarly garbed was his waist, where he could feel the after-ache of a diagonal slash that began at his left hipbone and ended at his right breast. Although large, the wound wasn't deep, pain level exceedingly low compared to the pulse of the one on his arm. He could feel the healing itch of a small, undressed cut on his forehead as well. He mindlessly thumped his tail against the mattress, noting in surprise that it was unscathed.

It was then that he finally remembered how he'd sustained these wounds. Flashes of Dagger, Eiko and himself fleeing the streets of Alexandria, a ship and it's massive ruby colored orb staring down at the grand sword raised between the towers of Alexandria Castle played in his memory. He'd barely had time to find shelter in a fissure in the street, hidden under the remains of a building. The blast from the ship's ruby struck the castle like the deathblow of a sword, rolling like a wave to swallow up the rest of the town. It had moved so quickly he'd only had time to find entrance and shelter into the fissure for Dagger and Eiko. After he was engulfed in the wave, he remembered nothing but Dagger and Eiko's voices.

Dagger's voice… it had sounded so defeated. So… hopeless. His chest wrenched, having nothing to do with the physical injury adorning it.

His eyes flew open.

Dagger and Eiko; were they all right?

With a new and more important matter to focus on, he barely noticed the ceiling of the guest room in Lindblum Castle high above him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed (noticing vaguely that he was still wearing pants), lifting the top half of his body while setting his shoe-clad feet on the carpeted floor.

Too late he realized he'd sat up too quickly. Everything in his vision hazed and distorted as a wave of fatigue almost drowned his head. He grasped the bed covers with his good hand to steady himself, lifting the other to hold his head instinctively, arm burning in protest. The gash across his waist complained achingly as his torso bent slightly in his sitting position. He waited a few seconds until the room stopped spinning before lowering his injured arm and laying it on his lap.

Refusing to let this minor setback slow him down, Zidane stood up, practicing caution this time, and was pleased to find his head remaining clear and his legs support him effortlessly. His tail swayed slowly behind him, providing balance as it always did. Looking down to examine his waist, he saw a large, white bandage wrapped snugly around the entirety of his middle from the bottom of his chest to the top of his belt. The faint, diagonal bloodstain confirmed his suspicion of the wound's length and shape. He turned his attention to his bandaged arm. More layers were wrapped around this one to compensate for the deeper gash. All in all, he diagnosed himself as healable.

Once done with his inspection, he turned his head and scanned the rest of the room and remaining beds for Dagger and Eiko. He breathed a small sigh of relief upon finding them empty, this meaning a good chance that they were not injured as well. He tried to ignore the ache across his waist that accompanied the breath, knowing it would undoubtedly twinge with each one until he was mended. Although he began feeling hopeful that Dagger and Eiko were safe, not being bed-ridden here didn't mean they were unharmed. He refused to believe they were anything more than injured. He just needed to find them.

Having no idea where they could be, he began pondering all the possible and most likely places. After all, he had no memory of what happened after the attack on Alexandria, let alone how he'd ended up in Lindblum Castle.

He'd only considered a handful of possible places when the faint sound of footsteps reached his ears, interrupting his thoughts. He turned his head to the stairs behind and to the right of where he stood, tail twitching in surprise to the unexpected noise. The volume of the footsteps increased until the owner trotted into view, looking in Zidane's direction as they reached the top of the stare. Zidane paused, face vacant as he recognized Blank.

"Hey man, you're awake," Blank said, voice teaming with relief. A large, toothy smile followed the sentence as he approached with long strides.

"Blank," Zidane responded, more a question than a statement. He was surprised to see him, forgetting all about his recently un-petrified friend in his worry for Dagger and Eiko. Although unsure how he'd gotten there, Zidane couldn't be happier his friend was safe.

Blank chuckled. His smile dissolved into a straight line, lines forming on the brow above the belt fastened just above his eyes. He halted a few short feet away from his tailed friend, eyes scanning the injuries as he attempted to calculate their severity.

One side of his mouth upturned thoughtfully, the crease in what was visible of his forehead deepening. "You look a lot better than you did when we brought you here, but you still don't look so good," he assessed, speaking with genuine concern.

The former half of the sentence was enough to earn Zidane's attention. "You brought me here?"

Blank nodded, facial expression unchanged as he continued to feel unsure of Zidane being on his feet while looking the way he did. He folded his arms and looked into his face. "You don't remember?"

Zidane paused to examine his thoughts for a moment before shaking his head.

"Well," he began. The way he got a far off look in his eye told Zidane it was going to be a long story. "Things went totally nuts when the first building blew up. Once the monsters started showing up, we just sort of tried to defend the town and kill off as many as we could." Blank lifted his arms in the air as if holding something above his head. "Then those giant wing things appeared out of nowhere and covered everything." He lowered his arms, letting one hang to the side while putting the other on his hip, shifting his weight to one foot. "That made stuff stop blowing up, but the monsters wouldn't stop coming. After a while we ran into some of your friends like… Freya? … And Vivi and told us you said to leave cause that Kuja guy was gonna destroy the castle. We all went to the harbor together and escaped on an unmanned ship, but we were worried that you stayed behind to help Dagger and the little girl." He shook his head and smiled, pretending to look disgusted by Zidane's predictable actions. Although heroic, they were always moronic thanks to a lack of concern for his own safety. "Damn show-off."

Zidane's eyes widened as his former worry resurfaced at the mention of Dagger's name. "Are they all right?" he asked anxiously. His whole body tensed as he waited for the answer.

"They're fine," Blank said as an afterthought, obviously not appreciating the interruption of his story. Zidane relaxed noticeably, shoulders and tail slumping in turn as the weight of a thousand worlds were lifted off them.

Blank had a thoughtful look on his face as he continued. "They were wiped out when we finally found you guys though. After the big blast from the sky destroyed everything, we all went back to look for you. Dagger and the girl were yelling for help. That's how we found you. They were exhausted from using so much white magic on you." Blank's eyes became vacant as he relived the moment. "You looked like death." Although Blank's demeanor remained casual, fear wavered his voice as he recited the black memory. "There wasn't an inch of you that wasn't covered in blood."

Zidane's jaw tightened. He hadn't known he'd been hurt so badly. What must it have been like for Dagger and Eiko to see him like that? His chest tightened with worry for them, angered that they'd had to see such horror on top of all that transpired in Alexandria.

Accompanying the feelings were those of immense gratitude. Their white magic was undoubtedly what had saved his life.

Zidane took a breath, leaving all those thoughts behind to focus on the more important matters. "Is everyone else ok?" he asked as he looked at Blank. Blank finally left his dark memories to look at Zidane, face smoothed back to normal, and answered, "Yeah, they're all fine. The only thing wrong with them is how worried sick they are about you." He paused, shaking his head as if amazed. "Someone was in here almost all the time to check on you. The only reason they're not here now is cause Cid called them all for a meeting."

The information caught Zidane's attention. "Where?"

"The conference room."

That was enough said for Zidane. Without another word, he made for the stairs to see Dagger. Although Blank had said she was fine, he'd meant in the physical sense. After everything that had happened, he had no idea how well she was emotionally. He had to see for himself.

Blank stepped in Zidane's path, hands held out to stop him. Zidane stopped short of the outstretched hands so they were inches from his chest. "Where do you think you're going?" Blank asked, eyes wide and brows raised high in disbelief as if he thought his friend had lost his mind.

Zidane looked at Blank as if he'd just asked him something stupid. "I gotta go check on Dagger," he answered, as if it was obvious.

Blank rolled his eyes. "Not like _that_ you're not. You shouldn't even be out of bed. They had to stitch you up and you're gonna rip them out if you move around too much." He spoke firmly to make sure he'd clearly sent the message.

Although thankful for Blank's concern, a lifetime of getting on each other's nerves and fighting while trying to stop the other from doing something stupid made retaliation a habit; one that he wasn't going to give up, especially not now. Nothing-not even his own well being-ever stopped Zidane from doing something he believed was important.

"Come on Blank, are you really going to try to stop me?" Zidane asked teasingly. No one was going to stop him from seeing Dagger, so he laid the aggravation on extra thick: a lot thicker than he normally would have.

Blank's jaw tightened, annoyed as Zidane spoke like he was talking to a child. Zidane felt momentarily guilty for pushing on his friend's last nerve, but he refused to end the charade.

"You can't fight me off," Blank challenged, gesturing at Zidane's bandages with his outstretched hands. He'd spent enough time with his tailed friend to know what he was up to and had every intention of fighting back. Although Zidane's intentions were forever noble, someone had to stop him from killing himself.

Zidane feigned shock. "You'd beat up a dying person?" He spoke in heavy sarcasm, raising his good arm and wagging his finger. "Shame, Blank. Shame."

Blank huffed, clearly not in the mood for such intense arguing, no matter how playful. He blew a swift breath of air through flapping lips, rolling his eyes as his hands slapped down to his thighs in defeat. "Alright, alright, no need to lay it on so damn thick," he snapped. Zidane smiled in spite of himself at the reaction. Although he felt guilty for stooping so low with the accusation, he was glad he'd ended the debate quickly.

Blank played the good sport and stepped aside, but not before saying, "If you have to go, at least put a shirt on. You'll scare the hell out of everyone the way you look."

Zidane had to agree to that; walking around showing off bloody bandages was a bad way to convince everyone he felt better than he looked. He walked to the dresser by the bed where he found his own shirt folded neatly on top. It had obviously been cleaned and repaired, as he found it blood free with the faint line of stitching that matched the length of his abdominal wound.

After slipping it on, with added effort and caution due to his painfully protesting arm, Zidane walked toward the stairs. He smiled, one side of his mouth upturned more than the other, the same way he always did when he felt he needed to apologize. Blank stood with his arms folded, trying to look like he didn't care, but the half-smile that crept onto his face showed there were no hard feelings.

Walking down the steps and along the halls gave Zidane a taste of how life would be until his wounds healed. Although not regretting his decision to check on Dagger, he had to admit his injuries were much more bothersome in motion. His arm throbbed and burned intensely when left hanging at his side, so he was forced to hold it across his waist as if it were in a sling. The bandage about his waist was only fastened so tightly to make sure he could breathe, and the simple motion of walking made it slightly move. This made the binding brush against his stitches with every step, adding a burn to the ache. He would wince occasionally when a step would cause a harder rub against the wound, in which his brow creased in an uncomfortable frown, his tail twitching in turn.

All he had to do was think of Dagger to keep him going. His mind quickly became a mess of concern for her. How was she holding up? Considering the seriousness of the recent things transpired, he feared it wasn't well. Despite the increase of discomfort it brought, he quickened his pace.

Taking the elevator to the top floor (getting immediate clearance from the guard whom had obviously been told of all of Cid's new welcome guests) was a pleasant ride. He was able to lean against the railing to catch his breath and have a rest from his protesting wounds. It was a blessing and a curse when the door opened to the top floor. Bu there was no question that going on was more important, so he made his way down the hall.

Breathing a bit faster than considered normal, Zidane finally walked through the archway into the conference room. He was greeted by the bright sun glowing through the window, the chance to stand still and ease his discomforts, and five pairs of eyes, all looking at him with different reactions.

"Zidane!" Eiko's energetic voice was filled with ecstasy. She ran from the side of the room opposite Zidane, swerving around the table and practically slammed into him, locking her arms around his waist in an all-too-tight hug.

Zidane's breath caught in his throat as pain exploded across his waist, casting yellow dots in his vision. He managed not to cry out, not wanting to upset Eiko and cause unneeded panic among the group. He let his breath out in relief when she finally let go.

The pain ebbed quickly, and he exhaled gratefully. It was then that he noticed Vivi had come to Eiko's side, staring up at him with big yellow eyes full of relief and joy. Freya had stepped forward, although not as close as the other two. Her eyes shone with relief as she shook her head slightly, smiling in awe. She had been so amazed he'd gone to such lengths to save his friends, and that he actually stood before them now, alive and whole even though he had appeared lost days before. Steiner stood tall and straight, respecting the hero before him that had saved his princess. His eyes brimmed with endless gratitude. Amarant looked away as if he hadn't looked in the first place.

"You're finally awake!" Vivi said, voice high with elation. The way he bounced on the balls of his feet made his elation very apparent. "You were sleeping for so long we were starting to get really worried."

Zidane frowned in confusion. "How long was I asleep?"

"Three days!" Eiko said as if it was a ridiculously large number.

Zidane couldn't help but be shocked. So much could have happened in three days. The realization brought countless questions to mind. But one still remained prominent above all the others. He scanned the room for Dagger to make sure he hadn't just missed her when he walked in.

"How are you feeling?" Freya asked, genuinely concerned, although she couldn't mask her relief.

Zidane barely glanced at her as he said, "I'm fine." After scanning the room with his eyes and finding Dagger absent, he looked back at the Burmecian and asked, "Where's Dagger?"

When Freya's smile faltered, an unbearable pressure weighed down on Zidane's chest. Had his fears been confirmed?

"She wasn't hurt in Alexandria, but she's been very quiet and distant since we arrived three days ago." She paused, exchanging glances with Eiko and Vivi, whose smiles had also disappeared.

Zidane was quickly becoming frantic. A bubble of worry was beginning to build in his chest, temporarily distracting him from his physical discomforts. "Has anyone talked to her?" he asked, desperate for more information.

Freya shook her head. "I imagine she's by the telescope right now. She's been spending a lot of time alone there, but she never answers anyone when they try to talk to her. We thought it best to leave her be for the time being."

That was all the information Zidane needed.

"Thanks," he said quickly, then turned and left the room without another word.

He made his way down the hall and made a right to the stairs. He looked over his shoulder before turning and was relieved when he found no one following him. He wasn't going to let anyone stop him. Worry and anxiety over Dagger's condition gave new life to his steps, increasing his pace without increasing his discomfort.

Perhaps time alone was her way of coping. But he could only imagine how she could be feeling. Was it truly healthy for her to be alone with the rage of emotions that were surely plaguing her now? He flattered himself to believe his condition was one of her concerns and hoped that seeing his recovery would bring some peace to her. Then maybe he could talk to her about the rest and get her back on track. He could only fathom how bad it was until he saw her.

Reaching the top of the second stairway, Zidane finally made his way out the arch that led outside. The sun beat down unexceptionally, a reverse to the storm that must be raging inside Dagger. Zidane panted, out of breath as he forced his way up the rest of the steps that lead to the telescope. The weariness of sleeping for three days was now becoming extremely apparent.

But he found a new energy lift his will when he saw Dagger, standing on the observation tower. She stood with her back to him, facing the vast, breathtaking lands that lay below.

He approached her, taking each step carefully, eyes fixed on the back of her head. She wasn't moving at all. The only motion was that of her hair waving ever so slightly in the soft breeze.

When he ascended the last step, he stopped, reaching for the wall on his left to steady himself. At first, all he could do was watch her. She hadn't heard him approach, so he just stood there.

How long had she been there? How long had she been standing so still, ravaged by the horrors of her fallen kingdom? How had she been coping?

Zidane was left tongue-tied. He couldn't imagine what would be a useful word at a time like this. His playful jokes and sarcasm would be worthless here. How else could he help her?

Unable to think of better, he spoke her name softly but clearly.

"Dagger."

Her back went rigid. He noticed this and feared he had startled her. But what had truly caught her off guard hadn't been _a_ voice.

It had been _his_ voice.

Almost immediately, she spun around, hair spinning around and falling behind her. Zidane became frozen as he looked into her face. Her eyes were glossy and wet, the product of frequent and recent crying, and the bags under her eyes demonstrated extreme lack of sleep. The sight set something off inside him. He didn't know whether to scream or cry. An invisible pair of hands was pushing down on his chest so hard he couldn't breathe.

His wounds held nothing to the pain of seeing her like this.

Before he could say anything, she sucked in a breath through her nose and held it as if shocked, and he saw a light suddenly shine in her eyes. He watched as her eyes strayed from his face to his chest, then his waist, down to his feet and back to his eyes again. As he watched her, she stepped forward without a word, closed the space between them and locked her arms around him in a close embrace, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Zidane froze. She'd never initiated physical contact of any kind with him before unless the need was dire. And yet she was _hugging_ him. _Tightly_.

The shock only lasted a moment before Zidane wrapped his arms around her shoulders in a sheltering hug. Her body pressed against his abdominal wound like a finger on a bruise, but he barely noticed the discomfort it caused. He was too distracted by the warm feeling spreading inside his chest and the pang of concern that accompanied it. There was a strange kind of joy he was getting from holding her so close. But there was also anxiety towards the reason behind the action. Was she hugging him because it was a comfort for her in her bleak state? She was so upset she was willing to hug him for the first time without any apparent awkwardness?

"Wow. I wasn't expecting that," he said automatically, cracking a small smile in spite of himself. He couldn't help but speak positively with a playful undertone to her new and strange behavior. It was his nature. He only hoped it might brighten her mood somehow.

But she didn't react in any way. What he didn't know was that she was listening carefully to his heartbeat as it thumped softly against her ear. Hearing it and feeling him in her arms let her know he was truly alive. She was hugging him for comfort, yes. But only for the comfort of knowing he was alive. She was overwhelmed with relief to see that he wasn't going to die, as she had been sure he was going to. Her throat became tight with the overwhelming feeling of relief and joy, and her eyes burned with fresh tears.

When she didn't react to his comment, Zidane's fragile smile faded. He became increasingly concerned when nothing but silence followed. Neither one moved. Did she just need more time? Did she just need to be hugged a little longer before she was ready to talk to him?

After a few moments, Zidane became aware of a warm dampness on his shoulder. His chest tightened when he considered the possibilities, and a sharp pain crushed the inside of his chest when a soft sob confirmed his suspicions.

"Hey, it's ok," Zidane said softly. When she sobbed again, Zidane quickly became frantic. This behavior was what he had expected of her, but it made it no easier on his heart. He brought one hand to cradle the back of her head and tightened his hold around her back with the other. Dagger responded immediately by pressing her face into his chest and crying freely.

"It's ok," Zidane soothed, speaking barely in a whisper. He rested his cheek on the top of her head to tighten the embrace and hold her closer.

She cried, and he held her. The tears seemed endless and the sobs constantly changed. Sometimes she wailed. The sound muffled in his leather vest while she tightened her grip on him with all her might. Other times she sniffed as a waterfall of tears fell, barely holding onto him while leaning all her weight into him. She only stayed standing because of his strong grasp around her.

Endless minutes ticked by as Zidane held her, listening to her suffer. He'd all but forgotten about his physical wounds. The rage going on inside him as she wept was almost too much to bear. His chest and throat were tight with an emotion he didn't know how to release. He felt as if he had been completely destroyed. She was in incomparable pain, and he could do nothing about it.

He'd never felt worse in his life.

There was no idea how long this had been going on when her sobs began to quiet. Her eyes burned from the excessive tears, and she was exhausted. Zidane knew this was part of her coping process, but watching her in so much pain was by far the hardest thing he'd ever had to endure.

Zidane let the silence stretch a little longer to give Dagger a chance to say something. When she didn't, he thought she might not be ready. Or maybe she was waiting for him to say something.

"How do you feel?" he asked, going with the latter. It was a lame question, but he could think of nothing better. Instead of answering, she held him tighter and brought herself closer, forbidding him to let go.

Zidane mentally berated himself, blaming the reaction on his own moronic question. She obviously wasn't ready and would only speak when she was.

Another few minutes went by, and she still said nothing. Zidane was ready to be as patient as needed, but he noticed how she suddenly had all of her weight leaned against him, her grip around him slacking as she began to slip out of his arms.

"Whoa." Zidane caught her and held her into his chest to keep her on her feet. "You're exhausted, Dagger." He turned her so she was standing next to him and facing the same direction he was. He then circled his arm tightly around her waist and prepared to lead her down the stairs. "You need to rest."

But she planted her feet as he took the first step, grasping his arm with both of her hands as if to make him let go. Noticing this, Zidane let go as she wished and turned to face her, placing his hands around her elbows to support her.

He looked in her face. "What's the matter?" he asked. Dagger grasped around his elbows in turn to keep herself supported. She wouldn't meet his eyes, looking instead at his chest as she shook her head.

Zidane didn't quite understand what was wrong. Why she refused to rest when she was so exhausted made no sense. Was it because she was ready to talk?

"What's wrong?" he asked. He tried to lower his face to look her in the eyes, as hers were still avoiding his. "Do you need to tell me something?"

Somehow, that question seemed the most effective one yet. He saw her become visibly still, eyes still fixated on his chest.

A bubble of worry began growing in Zidane's chest. He was finally about to get some answers, and he couldn't stand her hesitation. If he could only hear more about her thoughts and feelings, maybe he could do something about it.

The last thing he wanted to do was force her before she was ready, but being unable to help her was becoming more than he could bear. He released her left elbow and brought his hand to her face, placing his fingers under her chin. Ever so gently, he lifted her face until she was looking him in the eye.

"Dagger?" he prompted gently.

She just stared for a few silent moments. Her eyes glossed over with new tears before she turned them down, and she shook her head.

Time seemed to slow as the realization slowly crept in. A feeling no different than a knife wound stabbed Zidane's chest as he put the pieces together.

"You lost your voice." His voice was void of all emotion.

Dagger confirmed his statement by falling back into his chest to release the tears once again.

He felt helpless. He held her tighter and closer than he had before and let her cry. He began swearing oaths of revenge in his mind. Kuja had taken everything from Dagger and caused her almost more pain than she could bear. He would pay. Nothing would keep Zidane from assuring he suffered as much pain as he'd put Dagger through.

His mind raced with thoughts of revenge as he held her, letting her release her sorrows in his arms.

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Not like me to put swearing in stories, but let's face it; when Blank's mad, he's gonna swear. Thanks for reading :).


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